


I'll Never Forget You As Long As I Live

by TheOnlyException



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending (I hope), F/F, Fluff and Angst, Multi, bechloe - Freeform, established bechloe, established relationship (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyException/pseuds/TheOnlyException
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Chloe’s an entirely new set of music for Beca. She’s uncharted territory, the music sheets that she’s never revised before, a silence that’s not quiet, but not deafening."</p><p>OR </p><p>The one where Chloe Beale loses her memory and Beca Mitchell tries to make her fall in love with her again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foreword/Prologue

Beca can’t remember the first time she’s heard the phrase – she must’ve been at the tender age of five or six – but she still recalls what she had thought about it.

“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it was, and always will be yours. If it never returns, it was never yours to begin with.”

She finds it utter bullshit. She finds it a very redundant phrase, used to assuage loss in a very crude manner, and Beca loathes it with her very core.

She remembers her mother being the first to use it on her. She briefly retrieves memories from her past, to when she had first lost her pet turtle, Mr. Shelley – creative, I know – and she had been on the verge of tears, lower lip pushed out between teeth as she quelled down the wave of sobs that threatened to spill out.

Her mother had leaned down and kissed her on her head reassuringly, rubbing soft circles into her back. “Beca, honey, I’m sure that we’ll be able to find Mr. Shelley. He’s just probably out wandering for some lettuce or something,” She told her.

They had fruitlessly searched for the tiny turtle for hours, and their attempts had been futile. At the end of the treasure hunt for the pet, Beca’s mother had picked Beca up and wrapped her in her arms, squeezing the life out of the petite girl. “I’m sorry, love,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to Beca’s, to which she had protested to – even at a young age, she squirmed at the thought of close contact. “But it’s gonna be okay. He’ll come back, I’m sure of it.”

“No, he can’t be gone. He just can’t be gone, Ma.” Beca replied, tears brimming at the edges of her eyes.

Her mother shook her head roughly. “If you love Mr. Shelley, Beca, you need to let him go.”

“No, we can’t let him go,” Beca argued stubbornly, still attempting to try and put some distance between the squished cheeks. “We can’t just leave him alone, Ma. He’ll be scared.”

Her mother had acquiesced to Beca’s squirming and bent down to set Beca on her feet. “Like I said, if you truly love Mr. Shelley, set him free. If he comes back, he’ll always be yours. If he never returns, he was never yours to begin with.” Her mother offered, grabbing her daughter’s hand to fit into hers.

Even at such a young age, Beca didn’t believe a word her mother had said – but she relented, nonetheless. Kept her mouth shut about how she felt. Bottle up whatever opinions she had about the matter, and tried to forget about Mr. Shelley.

But she still believes that if she loves something so dearly, she wouldn’t let it go so easily - only an idiot would do that.

And she had loathed this phrase to her very core, until she learned that she had to let Chloe Beale go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm full of angst and this ship has completely taken over my life, and...I've been ruined.

 

 _And I don't want the world to see me//'Cause I don't think that they'd understand//When everything's made to be broken//I just want you to know who I am_ **– Iris by Goo Goo Dolls**

 

//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

Beca Mitchell lives for silences; lives for the serenity in between; between the chasms of separated conversations, of background chatter, of the sounds of her parents fighting.

She finds solace between the crevices of quiescence, finds the music buried and hidden in them, and she listens for them, commits them to memory. She remembers every pitch, every tone, every change, and she immerses herself in it, drowning herself in the music that only she is privy to. 

And when she had first received her (still) favorite pair of headphones from her father as a miserable excuse of an apology for the pending divorce, she had accepted them wholly, without much restraint, before shutting the door in her father’s face.

And she would use them to suffocate the sounds of the chaos around her, to accompany the wondrous silence. The music comforted her. The beats were familiar, the harmonies were easy to understand, and the melody was simple to control.

And Beca likes being in control. She likes knowing what comes next. Likes knowing exactly what she has to say or do to get it right.

 

Music understands that. _Music_ understands Beca.

 

It was good for Beca, who only ever needed the music and the silence. It was convenient and it was pleasant enough.

 

And then she met Chloe.

 

Chloe’s an entirely new set of music for Beca. She’s uncharted territory, the music sheets that she’s never revised before, a silence that’s not quiet, but not deafening.

Beca had felt overwhelmed, like the stable ground, which she had once situated herself with, had crumbled beneath her. She had been rid of every one of her senses, and she was terrified, alarm clutching at her chest like a vice grip, relentless in its pursuit of inflicting apprehension in her.

She told herself to maintain a sure distance, until she could become familiar with this new form of music, to give herself some time to grasp the concept of this unique brand of melody.

But then, the epiphany that should’ve occurred never happened. And Beca was left in the lurch, never knowing what to expect from Chloe – every moment with the redheaded a capella singer was as unprecedented as the woman herself.

Slowly, painfully, Beca had learned to cope, to let go of her inhibitions for a moment, to read the notes at a prima vista. She learned to become versatile with Chloe’s sui generis way of living. She bent in ways she never knew she could, and she was surprised at how well Chloe complimented her.

Because where Beca was hard, Chloe was soft. Where Beca was a raging sea, Chloe was calming waters. Where Beca was at adagio, Chloe was at allegretto.

 

Chloe has always been just enough for Beca. Always filling the spaces that she didn’t know were missing.

 

Their personalities are at other ends of the spectrum, so different, but yet so alike.

 

And gradually, surely, Beca had started living for more than the silences – she had started living for the music that was Chloe Beale. She began to live for the swift, exciting beat drops and for the effortless syncopated melodies.

 

She started – starts – to live for Chloe Beale.

 

And she finds it ironic, how she became one of the very things she loathed; she was a walking rom-com cliché, and while she didn’t like the thought of it, she didn’t hate it entirely either.

 

Chloe makes her feel like that – like she couldn’t truly hate something that Chloe helped bloom.

 

It had felt strange for Beca to start to live for something other than silence. She never would’ve thought she could ever come to value something more than that.

 

But now the silence is deafening for Beca.

 

For the first time in her life, Beca wishes for noise.

 

 

//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

Beca sits stiffly on the plastic chair, fingers incessantly twisting the loose piece of string that’s hanging limply at the end of her sweater. She keeps her eyes front, never daring to let it stray anywhere else. She forces every part of her to remain still, and she tries to let the silence, the music, comfort her, like it always did, but all it does is smother her in a way she’s never felt before.

She resists the urge to check the time on her watch – she refuses to let herself acknowledge that’s she’s been here for hours. She refuses to let herself to lose hope.

Instead, she lets the silence suffocate her. She lets the music torment her.

She grips her knee tightly, driving her fingertips roughly into the cap, and she’s wincing as she can _feel_ the seconds creep by, taunting her with each excruciating tick.

She’s pretty sure that she would’ve sunk her fingers into her skin if someone hadn’t placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

She flinches harshly at the touch, and then immediately lurches to her feet, a tired apology already slipping past her lips.

She pivots and then steps back, taken aback. She furrows her brows, taking a tentatively step towards the woman in front of her. “Aubrey, wha-“ her throat cracks pitifully at the end and she clears away the hours of misuse in her voice. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Atlanta right now?”

Aubrey regards her with a feeble smile, drained of its usual Aubrey Posen sureness. “Well, I couldn’t just leave her and you to deal in this mess alone,” she tells Beca, before adding a shrug like an afterthought. “And besides, I'm still one of her emergency contacts."

Beca laughs humorlessly. “Right, of course.” Beca offers, because she knows Aubrey needs this. That Beca, herself, needs this too.

Beca lets her eyes flit back to the door, disgruntled that she had allowed herself to stray away for more than five seconds.

Aubrey scrutinizes her closely before putting her hand on Beca’s arm, a little tentatively at first, and Beca is slightly perplexed by the older woman’s unusual hesitancy.

“How long has it been Becs?” She asks softly.

Beca runs her hands through her hair, tugging through the tufts carelessly. “I…honestly don’t know. I haven’t looked at the time.”

Aubrey keeps quiet, because she knows what Beca truly means. She knows that Beca doesn’t want to think how long it’s been. That Beca doesn’t want to know how many hours have passed without any news. 

And as Aubrey watches Beca stare so fiercely at the door, her heart tugs achingly in her chest, rattles so sharply against her ribs, that she has to take in quiet breath to quell the wave of empathy that’s flooding every part of her now.

 

She needs to sit down.

 

She moves forward, grasping Beca’s arm and forcing the both of them to sit back on the rigid chairs.

She watches Beca settle into the chair, fingers digging into her kneecap again, and Aubrey exhales out a shuddering breath, leaning her head back, resting against the wall as she composes herself.

She hadn’t had time to fully absorb what had happened when she was on the plane, but now that’s she here, every one of her senses are slowly dimming, diminishing like the dying embers of a snuffed out flame.

She closes her eyes and takes another moment to restructure every part of her usual Aubrey Posen assuredness and then she’s leaning up again, head held high, posture perfect and graceful.

She turns to Beca to offer words of alleviation. “Becs…she’s going to be fine. She’s a fighter.”

Beca doesn’t look at her; doesn’t take her eyes off the door. Instead she regards Aubrey with an air of restrained anguish. “I know she is. She’s always the strongest of the two of us.”

Aubrey smiles a little at that. She looks down at her hands, plays with them. “S-“ Before she can utter a word out, she’s interrupted by Beca’s abrupt jerk from her seat. Her head whips up and she see the younger woman lurch towards the door, small frame propelling her forward at an ungodly speed.

She stands up herself, slightly more composed but still quick and light on her feet. She makes her over to Beca and the woman that had exited out of the door. She only hears the ending of the conversation, which has her almost jumping in joy.

“The swelling’s gone down, and we’ve given her enough of a morphine dose to help cope with the pain before she wakes up.” The woman tells the both of them, a light smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Doctor,” Beca says, voice tinny and small and full with gratitude. “Can we go and see her now?” She queries, voice thick with recently released tears.

Aubrey doesn’t realize that she’s crying too when she offers her hand to thank the doctor. It’s only when she hears her own voice overcome with emotion that she notes the hot tears that are tumbling down her cheeks.

The doctor gives them the green light, but tells them that she needs to continue to do further testing, but Beca’s already down the hallway, crashing through the room.

Aubrey apologizes on behalf of her friend and then chases after her, sliding into the room and shutting it with a click.

 

And when Aubrey turns around, she can’t help but let out a small gasp.

 

Because Chloe is there, face bruised and bloodied, red hair straggly and chaotically splayed across the pillow, several tubes and needles sticking into every part of her, and Aubrey feels her heartbreak before she sees it coming, and then she’s breaking down before she can stop herself.

She allows the tears to spill down, unrestricted, and she sees Beca through the haze of tears. Beca is a hunched, crumpled mess next to Chloe; her petite body trembling with relief – or grief, Aubrey can’t tell because she’s become too busy trying corral back the tears.

 _They’re even harder to control than Fat Amy_ , Aubrey thinks.

And she walks over towards the other side of Chloe, and collapses against the rail of the bed, because Chloe is here.

 

Chloe is bruised. Chloe is unconscious.

 

But Chloe is alive. 

 

**(Unedited)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adagio - slowly; often indicates a speed somewhere between andante and largo
> 
> allegretto - fairly quick; faster than Andante and usually slower than Allegro
> 
> a prima vista - sight read; played or sung from written notation but without prior review of the written material; ("at first sight")
> 
> //
> 
> This is my first, multi-chap fanfic for the Pitch Perfect fandom and I hope you guys like it! Forgive me if Beca or the other characters are a bit off - I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beca blames herself for Chloe's accident.

_You've been deep in a coma_

_But I stood right here_

_When you thought there was no one_

_I was still right here_

_You were scared, but I told you_

_Open up your eyes_

_//_ _Never stopped being someone who could love you well_

_Had to show you the hard way_

_Only time will tell_ _  
_

_Revelations and heartaches make you realize_

_- **"Wake Up" by The Vamps**_

 

/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

When Beca could feel Chloe’s pulse beating against her fingertips, she felt the air go out of her like a deflated balloon. She had felt like she could finally breathe. She’s taking in sharp puffs of air now, fingers splayed across Chloe’s palm, and then she stills, taking a moment to commit everything to memory; from the slant of Chloe’s forehead to the small scar above her eyebrow; from the thin stretches of stitches at the left side of her cheek to the loose clench of her jaw.

 

And Beca can’t help but think that Chloe looks horrible, pale and pallid, but also beautiful nonetheless, because she’s still fighting, spirited and tenacious underneath the mess that the accident left behind in its wake.

 

But then, suddenly, Beca’s pulled away by Aubrey, who tells her that the doctor wants to explain the extent of Chloe’s injuries, and Beca fights the urge to stay, because every fiber of being is bellowing for her to plant her feet, to grasp Chloe’s face in her hands and kiss her until she wakes up.

 

But she feels the fight leave her in an instant when Aubrey sends a knowing glance, and she obeys, follows the blonde towards the doctor, who greets them at the entrance of Chloe’s room. She directs them towards a board that holds up a dozen photographic scans.

 

The doctor starts to slowly begin the process of her explanation, informing them that Chloe has three broken ribs, a crushed lung, a broken arm, and a fractured skull. The doctor also informs them that Chloe needs to be kept in a comatose state due to the intracranial hemorrhaging in her skull.

 

“The brain needs to heal itself as the swelling subsides,” The woman tells Beca quietly but surely. “Once she’s stable, we’ll start to slowly wean her off it.”

 

“And how long will that take?” Aubrey asks, and Beca’s once again thankful for the former Bella’s presence, much to her surprise and muted dismay.

 

“It’s hard to say. Different patients recover at different rates,” the woman replies. “We’ll monitor her daily to see if there’s any changes in her CT scans that can tell us if the swelling’s gone down.”

 

“All we can do is wait,” The doctor advises, when they've been quiet for too long, gently giving a comforting nod of acknowledgement that’s aimed at Beca.

 

The woman continues to explain every injury that Chloe has sustained in extensive and grave detail, and all Beca can do is try not to cry.

 

She can barely look at the scans without feeling nauseous. She averts her gaze from it, and settles it anywhere else. She knows she should pay close attention, and she usually does. She usually gives everything related to Chloe some careful consideration, but now, she finds herself at a standstill, where she can’t look but she can’t not look as well.

 

So she does what she does best and keeps to the silence, mute throughout the whole conversation between the doctor and Aubrey and herself, nodding occasionally to acknowledge her understanding of the matter.

 

The doctor makes it short and simple but Beca is struggling to keep up, because all she can hear is how it’s difficult to tell if Chloe might fully recover, or if she’d even wake up at all.

 

Beca briefly wonders why they hadn't informed her of this from the get do, but then the doctor tells her that it was only difficult to tell when they had run further examinations and tests.

 

The plausibility of the last outcome, however, terrifies Beca to her very core. It rattles and shakes her, thrusting her violently off her axis, and she’s left reeling, breathless and gasping as she feels everything around her cave in at once, staggering and devastating and paralyzing.

 

And she’s thankful for Aubrey’s steady hand on her shoulder because she can feel herself beginning to buckle, trembling and crumbling like crushed glass as she eases herself into the chair tucked to Chloe’s side.

 

She sinks down, languid and weighed down by the information that was disclosed to her. Her hand absentmindedly reaches for Chloe’s, feathery and light as she plays with Chloe’s bruised fingers, touching every contour, every curve, fingers tenderly treading over the band on the ring finger. She feels every ridge, every crevice of the band, finding absurd at how the stress of the proposal seems so trivial now.

 

“Beca,” She hears Aubrey breathe behind her, and she glances up, realizing that the doctor’s already left them to their own devices.

 

She turns around, away from Aubrey’s steely gaze and sets her sight on Chloe. Her beautiful Chloe, who’s perpetually thrumming and abundant in her elegance, her casual and effortless magnetism always pulling Beca along, and Beca can’t help but react, circling around her like she’s the only sun Beca sees - which she is.

 

 _She’s just a little muted now. Just a little ripped at the edges,_ Beca thinks sadly, her other hand grazing across Chloe’s discolored cheek reverently.

 

“Beca,” Aubrey says again, more insistent and Beca purses her lips in recognition.

 

“You need to eat.” Aubrey tells her, and Beca knows she has no room to argue, but she still does anyway, because Beca is still a stubborn asshole even in the face of adversity.

 

“No, I don’t. You’re not my mother or Chloe, Aubrey. You can’t force me to.” Beca tells her, albeit a little too childishly for a twenty-nine year old, married woman. She can feel the exasperation radiating off the former Bella.

 

“Please, just do what I ask for once. I’m honestly too tired to drag your Hobbit ass down to the cafeteria right now.”

 

Beca throws a glance over her shoulder, her free hand clenching the loose blanket that’s thrown over Chloe’s legs. “I can’t leave her, Bree.” Her voice is almost small. Tinny.

 

Aubrey softens for a fraction of a second. “She’ll still be here, Becs.” She assures the younger girl, hand on her arm.

 

Beca cringes as something in her snaps, stinging and fierce, ricocheting inside her like a misfired bullet. And then Beca’s lurching to her feet, fingers still intertwined with Chloe’s, and she feels every part of her resolve crack, fracturing in the middle, and shattering everything that’s bottled within, and the anger is sharp and hot in her belly. She feels it seize her and wrap her up in its clutch.

 

“She’s here because of me, Bree!” Beca shouts, and Aubrey’s startled by her sudden outburst, which is bizarre, because she’s been prone to plenty of Beca Mitchell breakdowns, but this one feels different, because something in her says that this might end up being irreparable. And the thought alarms her a little. Alarms her enough to rouse from her stupefied demeanor.

 

“It’s not your fault,” She says, using the voice she’d normally use for stressed out business executives at her Lodge. One she remembers using on a stressed out super senior Chloe Beale as well.

 

Beca actually looks appalled. She recovers quickly, neck straining as she leans forward. “I was the one who had asked her to come and pick me up from the airport,” She exclaims in a splutter, finger jabbing at her own chest. “If I had just taken a cab, if I was just a little more patient at the thought of seeing Chloe, she wouldn’t be here.”

 

“I-“

 

“If it wasn’t for me, she would be awake and unscathed!” Beca’s yelling then, hot tears spilling out from the corners of her scrunched eyes. “She would be telling us those damn puns or showing us those cute animal pictures she always manages to find with that stupidly, adorable smile of hers!”

 

Beca quiets down then, hiccupping a little as she leans down to brush away a flyaway strand of hair out of Chloe’s face. “If she didn’t come to pick me, she would be home right now, telling me about her students. And we’d be home having dinner and laughing at things that don’t even make any sense,” Beca says, strangled, as she presses a kiss to Chloe’s temple, delicate and benevolent. “If it wasn’t for me, Chloe wouldn’t have so many odds stacked up against her.”

 

Beca turns to Aubrey then, eyes red and blotchy at the edges. What she whispers next causes Aubrey’s second heartbreak for the day.

 

“I put Chloe in this hospital bed.”

 

Aubrey honestly can’t take a third heartbreak. She’s afraid she might go into cardiac arrest.

 

 

/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

 

Beca had taken off after that declaration, excusing herself as she’d rubbed at the corner of her eyes, smudging her heavily applied eyeliner.

 

Aubrey had fought the urge to pull Beca back, and let the woman go, watching her small frame scurrying off and out of sight.

 

 _So much for not leaving Chloe’s side,_ Aubrey remarks to herself pensively.

 

Aubrey pushes out a dense sigh, and drops next to Chloe, hand reaching for the woman’s forearm, searching for that tiny ladybug tattoo that’s that tucked there. Her fingers skim against soft skin, and she trails her hand up to Chloe’s wrist, feeling the steady pulse there.

 

“Oh, Chloe, please wake up,” She tells the woman, pushing herself up from her seat a little to plant a kiss at Chloe’s temple. “The world will be a dimmer place without you if you don’t.”

 

 

/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

 

The rest of the Bellas arrive slowly, trickling into the hospital and into Chloe’s room like molten lava. In their hands holds the gifts for their former co-captain, and they settle it down at the table across from Chloe’s bed.

 

Jessica and Ashley had brought in a scrapbook filled with the events of Chloe’s life, post-graduation, - which, to a certain extent, had included Beca’s as well, because whenever there had been a significant moment in Chloe’s life, Beca was always there to witness it or experience it – and Aubrey gives them a small smile of quiet gratitude as they briefly flip through the pages.

 

Cynthia Rose and Flo had brought in flowers and balloons, while Lily had placed a suspicious-looking package on the end table beside Chloe, telling Aubrey in that usual imperceptible tone of voice, to “not open it until she is awake,” which prompted Aubrey to swiftly put it as far away as possible from Chloe when Lily turned her attention somewhere else.

 

Stacie had brought in empty beer bottles, greatly confusing the rest, but she’d claimed that it’s an inside joke between her and the redhead, and the Bellas had decided to not question it when they saw the sharp looks the leggy brunette had sent their way.

 

Fat Amy just told them that her presence was enough of a gift for the recovering redhead.

 

“Where’s Beca?” Stacie asks Aubrey, after all the Bellas had settled down in the room.

 

“I don’t know,” Aubrey replies. “But we should give her some space...you know Beca needs more time to process things than the average human.”

 

 

 

/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

 

Beca’s sat between the vending machine and the janitor’s closet, laptop perched precariously on her knees as she fingers glide over the track pad, sliding and syncing tracks into place as she feels the steady beat of the music pulse heavily against her skull, the bass shrouding over her like a cozy blanket.

 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been there; wedged uncomfortably in the small space she’d slotted herself in. But she keeps mixing, putting everything that’s pouring out of her like a steady stream, a ceaseless current of melody spouting out from the tap of her inspiration, borne from the grief and the shame and guilt.

 

And she mixes, and mixes, and mixes, until she can’t feel anything else besides the flutter of the rhythm taking over her. Slowly, she saves her work, and puts the song on replay, closing her bloodshot eyes.

 

She lets herself drift into the cadency of the song, and steels herself for what’s about to come. Steels herself for the trials and tribulations that sure to come to Chloe’s way. Steels herself for she needs to do. What she needs to prepare for if Chloe doesn’t truly wake up.

 

She lets the tears fall freely then – lets them slip down her cheeks and drip onto her shirt, and she’s properly sobbing now, sniveling and blubbering like a child, and she can’t help but laugh, because she shouldn’t be crying. She should be there by Chloe’s side, relentless and hopeful for her recovery, and Beca wants to. She wants to be that.

 

But she can’t.

 

Beca knows she’s a realist. She knows that life doesn’t always work out like the movies that Jesse and Chloe always made her watch – oh, how she wishes that it did though. She wishes on it so much.

 

“I’m really impressed, Becaw. You’ve managed to fit into the smallest of places,” His voice startles her, drawing her out of her thoughts, and she looks up, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“Jess?” Beca whispers, voice croaky.

 

“Hey,” He greets her with a wistful twist of his lips.

 

He slides down next to Beca as she tries to compose herself.

 

“How is she?” Jesse asks, his voice a little too solemn for Beca’s liking.

 

“Doctor says there’s a lot of swelling in her brain, and they’re not sure if she’s gonna wake up after they take her off the drugs,” Beca tells him reticently.

 

He’s quiet for a second, lips pursed, before he sighs, scratching at the back of his neck. “God, Becs…that’s sucks…I’m so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, I know. It sucks ass,”

 

“Anything I can do?”

 

“Build a time machine and stop the bastard from crashing into Chloe.”

 

“I suppose I can try…can’t guarantee it though.”

 

Beca can’t but smile. It’s imperceptible and it’s tired and it’s barely even a smile, but she feels the weight lift of her shoulder for a fleeting moment. And then she’s cradling her head in her hands, leaning forward as she burrows herself between her knees.

 

“God, Jesse…What am I doing? I should be there with her, not crying my damn eyes out,” Beca murmurs through her fingers. “I’m the worst wife ever.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. It just shows that you’re human. That you have feelings and that you’re afraid of losing her,” Jesse replies. “Despite the badass façade that you like present to others, you are human, Beca. You do care.”

 

Beca sighs, coughing a little to relieve the remnants of the hoarseness her cry fest had left behind. “Thanks, asshole.”

 

 

/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

 

Beca doesn’t know how long’s she been at the hospital. She can remember going back to their apartment and packing her and Chloe’s clothes in a duffel bag and checking into a motel near the hospital, but then days had seemed to blur together, uniting like two trailing raindrops meeting at the end.

 

Days had turned to weeks and weeks began to turn into months and Beca just gave up on counting and keeping track of the days.

 

Instead she starts to focus her days on waiting at Chloe’s side and begins her mornings working on her laptop from the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital as well as rigorously and religiously depending on stale vending machine coffee.

 

She ends the day with daily updates on Chloe’s progress. So far, the doctor tells her that it’s hopeful. And Beca’s relieved, but there’s this nagging feeling at the back of her head that tells her that it’s not going to be that simple.

 

She pushes these thoughts back though; shoves it into the deepest depths of her mind, and opts for optimism – key word on opts – and so far it’s working. Beca’s not breaking down at the thought of Chloe never fully recovering – in fact, the thought hardly ever crosses her mind now.

 

Beca’s working on editing the latest song her newest artist had recorded, and she’s bleary eyed and coffee deprived when Aubrey pops by, her signature composed, unflappable smile reigning on her face.

 

“Here,” She says, handing Beca a large cup of steaming, hot coffee.

 

Beca eyes the cup warily. “Why have been you so nice to me recently?” She questions dubiously.

 

Aubrey rolls her eyes and lets out an aggravated sigh. “Because Chloe would want me to take care of you. Now drink your coffee before I take it away.”

 

“…Fine,” Beca relents, taking the cup into her hands and taking in a whiff, enjoying the scent that engulfs her senses. “Bless your soul,” Beca mumbles, around a mouth full of scalding caffeine.

 

Aubrey shakes her head at the brunette’s antics and treads over to Chloe. “How is she?” Aubrey asks, settling down by her side. She runs her hand over the woman’s cheek.

 

“The doc says that Chloe might fully recover. The swelling’s gone down a lot, and they’ve started to wean her off the drugs already.”

 

“So, she might wake up?”

 

“They’re pretty sure,” Beca says with a small smile.

 

Aubrey turns to her, a thinly veiled grin of delighted twisting her lips. She opens her mouth to question whether Beca’s showered recently as she takes in the younger woman’s appearance, when she’s interrupted by Beca’s sudden lurch towards the bed.

 

“She- Chloe’s waking up!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter is messy or just bad, but forgive me because it's 3 am where I live and I just wanted to get the ball rolling for this story. I'll start editing this chapter tomorrow, when I'm less dead and not so coffee deprived. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!
> 
> p.s. just do me a favor and ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes. As I'd said earlier, I'll get to editing the mistakes tomorrow. 
> 
> p.p.s i also just realized that i made Beca so freaking dramatic - my god


	4. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hola!! (i'll talk more about why this chapter is centuries late at the end) anyways enjoy reading this chapter!

_I knew it once, but I forgot_

 

_I'm going through changes now_

 

_We want everything but what we got_

 

_I'm going through changes now_

 

\- _**Changes by Langhorne Slim & The Law**_

 

**_Chloe wakes up with a horribly peculiar taste in her mouth._ **

 

Her head throbs like someone’s been playing the drums all night long in there, and she groans, squinting and blinking her eyes rapidly as she comes to, bright lights flooding her senses before her headache increases tenfold.

 

She’s greeted by the faces of Aubrey, Beca, and the doctor, who’s surrounding her bed with quiet smiles on their faces.

 

She smacks her lips a little, wetting them as she croaks out her confusion. “Whe- where am I?”

 

“You’re in the hospital, Chloe. You’ve been in a car accident recently. You hit your head, but you’re all right now.” The doctor tells her warmly.

 

“Wha- I was in an accident?” Chloe wheezes out, eyes still squinted to protect her from the sudden harsh glare of fluorescent lights.

 

“Yes,” The woman says, stepping forward to examine Chloe better. “How do you feel?”  


“My head hurts, like someone’s been playing bad music very loudly, for a very long time,” Chloe informs her. Beca and Aubrey glance apprehensively at the doctor who shoots them an assuaging glance back.

 

“Well, that’s perfectly normal,” the dark-haired doctor assures. “I’ll get you something for that.”

 

She turns to a nurse and starts to prescribe Chloe some morphine.

 

Chloe faces Aubrey as the doctor continues to reel off what she needs. Chloe’s red curls bounce haphazardly across her shoulders as she pivots. “Bree, how long have I been out?” She asks the blonde, who smiles at her tenderly.

 

“Two and a half months,”

 

Chloe’s taken aback. So much so that her mouth drops open. “Two months?” She utters incredulously. “I must’ve missed auditions then! Shit, what happened? Did you manage to recruit new members?”

 

Aubrey furrows her brow in response, glancing at Beca for an explanation. A mirror of her own bewilderment greets her as Beca settles by her side.

 

“Chloe…what auditions?” Aubrey asks, softly; carefully.

 

Chloe frowns, the space between her eyebrows crinkling. “The auditions for the new Bellas?”

 

Beca feels her stomach drop then. Hears it clatter noisily at the bottom. She leans forward a little, licking her lips in tepid anticipation. “Chlo…you know who I am, right?”

 

Chloe purses her lips and scrutinizes the brunette for a considerable amount of time before slowly nodding her head. “I think so…I think we met at the Activities Fair? Beca, right?”

 

Beca feels her heart implode on itself. Hears its downfall as it meets its fateful end. “Um…Chloe...I’m your wife.” She whispers, settling down next to her.

 

She watches as Chloe leans back, shock overwhelming her as she exhales out a breath of disbelief. Beca tilts forward, reaching for Chloe’s hand to offer some sort of comfort but the older woman shies away, and Beca stops short, retracting her hand back hastily. She tries to veil the look of hurt that flashes on her face with a passive purse of her lips.

 

Warily, as if Chloe’s afraid of damaging something, she raises her left hand, examining the beautiful golden band with astonishment. Beca can’t bear to look at her anymore, can’t stand to feel the look of empathy that Aubrey must sending her now.

 

She lurches to her feet, ignoring the calls of her name as she stumbles down to the hall, already feeling the familiar of tears form behind her eyelids.

 

“Mrs. Beale-Mitchell!” She attempts to ignore the doctor’s call for her, but then she feels a hand yank her back with a sudden and swift tug. She wrenches away, continuing her pace down the hallway.

 

“You said that everything was good,” Beca cries out in exasperation, running her hands through the tangled strands of her unwashed hair.

 

“Mrs. Beale-Mitchell, brain injuries aren’t like broken bones or cuts. They’re not as predictable,” The woman, informs her, pivoting to face her. “Sometimes when the swelling tissue presses against the skull, it can cause some impairment.”

 

“Some impairment?” Beca utters out in disbelief. “My wife doesn’t remember me!”

 

The woman presses on when Beca tries to turn away again. “Even when she’s awake, the swelling might cause confusion or memory loss – even mood swings.”

 

“What?” Beca coughs out, a sour taste in her mouth as she pushes past to doctor.

 

“But that’s normal!”

 

Beca responds by punching the wall.

 

Not the smartest move.

 

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

 

Chloe watches the petite brunette race out of the room dazedly. She feels awful, as if she had committed a wrongful act. She feels the remorse pull at her, but she’s uncertain of the cause. She knows she hasn’t done anything wrong – well, anything that she can recall.

 

Chloe tips forward, reaching for Aubrey’s hand to relieve the turmoil that’s raging within her. She pulls the blonde close as she holds up her left hand, displaying the wedding band that’s placed so delicately on her finger. “Bree…how can I be married? I was just with Tom yesterday!”

 

“Chloe, you haven’t been with Tom since senior year,” Aubrey informs the redhead, twisting her hand so it intertwines with Chloe’s.

 

“What?” Chloe squeaks out, almost inaudible. “Aren’t we still in our senior year?”

 

Aubrey sends her friend a strained smile as she runs her thumb over her knuckles. “You graduated eight years ago, Beale.”

 

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

 

Chloe hasn’t seen the tiny brunette for hours. She stirs in her bed restlessly, fidgeting with the gold band on her finger as she keeps a vigilant watch for the brunette’s arrival.

 

It’s almost two a.m. when she gives up and shifts out of her bed, tugging on the jacket that was provided for her. She wrestles it over her shoulders with minimal difficulty and treads out of her room. Her feet lead her down the hallway, where it expands to the waiting area, and she spots the petite woman immediately.

 

She makes her way towards the woman, and prods her shoulder with a gentle poke.

 

The brunette stirs brusquely, glancing over her shoulder with an icy glare, as if casting a curse upon those who had dragged her out of her slumber. She springs up from her position on the couch when she realizes that it’s Chloe.

 

“Chlo? What are you doing out here?” She croaks out, sleep still quite evident in her voice as she rubs her eyes.

 

The redhead smiles softly, brushing away the stray strand of hair that had managed to free itself from the ridge above her ear. “Beca, right?”  


Beca nods and shifts on her feet, stiff and slightly uncomfortable.

 

“Yeah, I couldn’t confirm that when you ran out of the room.” Chloe says softly.

 

Beca lets out a puff of stiff laughter. “Yeah…sorry about that.”

 

Chloe can’t help but think the brunette’s awkward unease is endearing. Adorable even. She tries to quell down the smile threatens to overtake her face. Tries, but ultimately fails.

 

“What are you up to now?”

 

“Sleeping…?”

 

Chloe grin grows a little bigger at the brunette’s tone. “Right…well, Becs, I was wondering if I could confirm some stuff with you…mostly about me and about…us.”

 

Beca arches one of her eyebrows with an artful curve as she tries to calm the thrumming of her heart at the word “Becs”. It’s funny how a little alteration of her name could cause her heart to somersault so violently in her chest. “I’m surprised that Aubrey hasn’t filled you in about everything.”

 

Chloe shrugs, lets out a brief chuckle. “She wanted to, but she told me that I should let you tell me,” Chloe drawls, tugging at the ends of her jacket. “Since you’re my…wife.”

 

Beca deflates a little at Chloe’s hesitancy of the title that she’d once so proudly announced, but complies at the request nonetheless. “Come on. Let’s get some food and I’ll try to answer anything you’re unsure about.”

 

The redhead falters a little as Beca strides forward, feet shuffling towards the cafeteria.

 

“I-“ Chloe pauses, the tugs at her jacket becoming more forceful.

 

Beca, recognizing the signs of distress in her wife, stops and offers her a pacifying smile. “I can’t think on an empty stomach,” She tells Chloe dryly, who lets out a giggle of quiet reprieve.

 

“That’s understandable,” The redhead says with amusement. “You haven’t been eating the jello that they’ve offering me after all.” She adds in a wink for good measure. “It’s utterly divine.”

 

Beca lets a laugh escape, which had sounded so distant and foreign to her own ears. Beca feels like she hasn’t let out a laugh like that in a long time.

 

“Well, that’s a blessing in disguise I suppose,” She murmurs, and gestures for Chloe to go before her.

 

“Ladies first,”

 

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

“So…we’re married.” Chloe asks Beca, testing how the word tastes on her lips – it tastes bittersweet for Beca, foreign but not unwelcome for Chloe - as she shuffles down, loading an apple to her tray.

 

Beca smiles faintly. “Yeah,”

 

“And I graduated from Barden three years late,” Chloe adds, sounding almost resentful of her previous decision.

 

Beca falters a moment then, hand frozen midair during her reach for the packed salad. “Um…you stayed for the Bellas,” Beca replies thickly, grabbing two of the boxes of salad and loading it onto their trays.

 

“And for me,” Beca adds later, struggling to cover up the silence on Chloe’s part.

 

“I stayed for you?” Chloe’s not surprised, just…taken aback - if it makes any sense. She’d always believed she’d do anything for the person she loves, but she just didn’t expect herself to delay her graduation for someone she met at college.

 

She’d always thought that those she had flings with in college would just be, well…flings. Until she had started dating Tom, and it was terrifying because she had assumed that _that_ was the real thing, and well, she supposes that it must’ve just been a lapse in judgment when she looks at it now.

 

_I must’ve really loved Beca a lot,_ Chloe thought pensively.

 

“I mean, you said that you were afraid to leave Barden as well, but…yeah, you told me that it was mostly because of…me.” Beca finishes with an awkward cough.

 

“Did I get my degree in Russian Lit?” Chloe asks.

 

“No…you ended up getting a major in education instead,” Beca tells her, leaning forward to put a hand on the redhead’s arm.

 

“What?”

 

“Wel-“

 

“The last time I wanted to be a teacher, I was eighteen.” Chloe mutters, turning away. “What changed?”

 

Beca sighs, feeling like she was transported back to her sophomore year, visions of memories that send snapshots of a thoroughly conflicted Chloe Beale, pacing back and forth in her room, fiery hair flouncing about in a flaming blur as she rattled off about her indecision in majors.

 

_What I would give to go back to that time now_ , Beca thinks with a hearty sigh.

 

 

/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//

 

 

“I think you need to see that Chloe losing her memory is a good thing,” Fat Amy says, reclining in her seat.

 

“Yeah, because traumatic brain injury is such a blessing, Amy.” Beca remarks caustically, her sharp tongue getting the better of her.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Stacie comments, taking a swig out of the bottle of wine that’s passed to her.

 

“It is! I mean, since Chloe doesn’t remember her, she won’t remember all the stupid stuff that Shortstack’s done,” Amy drawls on, planting her feet onto the coffee table before her. “And let’s admit it – it’s Beca, so like ninety-five percent of their arguments are most likely built upon her stupidity.”

 

“No offense,” the Australian offers, after Beca shoots her a particularly biting scowl.

 

“But if she doesn’t remember who Beca is, then she won’t remember that she’s in love with her,” Emily pipes up from her position beside Stacie, tone almost forlorn.

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised that you two even managed to get together,” Amy admits, taking the bottle of wine from Stacie’s grasp.

 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re the not the most adept in noticing signs of attraction,” Aubrey agrees from her perch on one of the couches.

 

“Gee, thanks, Bree.” Beca says with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

 

“Becs, we practically had to almost drown you two so you could finally realize that you were in love with her,” Stacie says, crossing one long leg over another. “I’d say that’s pretty oblivious.”

 

“I just didn’t want to screw up our relationship,” Beca protests, but as per usual, the Bellas steamroll over her objection in favor of teasing their former captain.

 

“Yeah, and if anything, you’re not even the most attractive or experienced lesbian in the pile here,” Amy says, depositing another generous amount of wine into her system. “That goes down to Cynthia Rose, and well…me, if I ever do decide to bat for the other team.”

 

“God, you guys are relentless,” Beca says, yielding to their teasing by burying her face in her hands. “And I’ve told you guys, I’m bisexual, not lesbian.”

 

“They’re just trying to relieve some of the tension, Beca,” Emily offers kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

Beca pauses for a moment, silent, before she lets out a sigh.

 

“I know,” Beca mutters through her fingers, before straightening up and squaring her shoulders to offer her gratitude for the Bellas’ support.

 

It’s strange, because Beca hardly ever offers any grateful regard to any of the Bellas, but she’s been feeling like this is long overdue.

 

“Thank you, guys. Really,” Beca says. “Chloe and I are grateful for the support. And…I guess I couldn’t have made it through this without the support that you weirdos gave me.”

 

“Our fearless leader, as eloquent and sentimental as ever,” Stacie says with a small smile, swiping back the bottle and raising it above her head like she’s giving a toast.

 

Beca smiles in response but it’s tired, and half-hearted and the group quiets down out of kind courtesy. Stacie puts away the bottle and lurches to her feet, coming to pause in front of Beca. She places her hand on the smaller woman’s.

 

“What if she doesn’t remember me, Stace? Like, ever?” Beca questions, voice small and tinny and so vulnerable - a sight that all of the Bellas are hardly ever allowed to witness.

 

“She’s going to remember you, Becs. She’s gonna remember all of us, alright?” Stacie says.

 

“Yeah. We’re her family.” Emily adds, and the rest of the Bellas murmur in agreement.

 

“Yeah, Shortstack…the Bellas are for life. We’re always going be here for you and the Ginger,” Amy says, voice becoming unusually somber. “She can’t forget us.”

 

“Yeah...you’re right.” Beca acquiesces, though her tone suggests that she’s not so easily convinced.

 

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

The ride back to their apartment is a strained one. The silence suffocates Beca in every corner, crawling and wriggling into every crevice and ridge that she’s trying so hard to block out.

 

For the second time in her life, Beca wishes for noise. For noise to fill up the silences that had once settled in after a session of witty banter or lewd suggestions (courtesy of one incredibly turned on Chloe Beale, which was almost always supported by an equally turned on Beca Mitchell) had dwindled to a gentle halt.

 

Beca dares to cast a glance over to Chloe, who’s peering out of the passenger window, hands twisted in the fabric of her sweater. Beca’s hands itch to move and soothe the tightened muscles, to run her hands over to the whitened knuckles, but every fiber of her being is locked tight.

 

So, Beca does what she does best. She tries to ignore everything. She stems down this feeling of hopelessness; this feeling of choking unfamiliarity. She buries it into every part of her, snuffing it out like an open flame.

 

She forces herself to keep her eyes on the road, hands readjusting their deathly grip on the steering wheel. Her hand, now wrapped tightly in white bandages, strains sorely against the sudden tension.

 

_God, punching the wall was such a genius move_ , Beca winces, _an absolutely freaking brilliant move._

 

“What happened to your hand?” Chloe murmurs out softly, fingers brushing against the bandages in worry.

 

Beca feels every part of her alight with such a feathery touch, and for a moment, she feels utterly pathetic, as she fights against the desire to turn her hand and wrap her fingers around Chloe’s.

 

“Oh, it’s nothing. It was an accident,” Beca said with a shrug of her arm.

 

Chloe lifts an eyebrow in disbelief, but does not voice it out.

 

They continue to drive in silence.

 

Beca wants to scream.

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

“So, erm…welcome home.” Beca says, shuffling into the hallway. She yanks out the keys from the lock, lugging the duffel bag that holding her and Chloe’s clothes and setting it down. She flicks on the lights as she moves to stand in front of Chloe.

 

“This is our place?” Chloe says in muted wonder, glancing around to take in her surroundings.

 

It’s a comfy place – big and spacious, but not as daunting as most gigantic houses seem. It’s decorated warmly, with pleasant colors and décor, and Chloe sees splashes of herself adorning every section of Beca’s home.

 

Sorry…their home.

 

Her heart sinks a little.

 

Beca rubs her hands together, keys dangling in noisy succession as she nods. “Yeah,” She glances around, loops her hand around the strap of the duffel bag, and flicks her head towards the direction of the living room. “Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.”

 

Beca cringes at what came out of her mouth. Chloe can’t help but find that incredibly adorable. “I’ll just go and put our stuff away now.” She nods, pivoting on the heel of her foot and making her way to their bedroom.

 

As Beca busies herself with stowing away their things, Chloe liberates herself to take a look around. Her eyes wander around the populous amounts of pictures that have made a home on the walls and shelves.

 

Most of them consist of her and Beca, in many different settings and attire, but with the same over joyous grins, and she chooses to turn a blind eye on them, focusing on the photos that feature other people instead of just them, and some stand out to her in jarring familiarity, and for a moment, she’s tracing her fingers across Aubrey’s beaming face, a tender smile on her face, and then she’s frowning at the faces that hold the similar significance akin to a stranger for her, and Chloe suddenly feels sick to her stomach.

 

Chloe tries to squash down this feeling of queasiness, trying not to accustom herself with these friendly, smiling faces, but she can’t because all she’s seeing a beautiful life that she no longer knows and then she struggling to breathe – this is too much to take in, too much to understand, too much lost memories to recollect. Suddenly, she feels herself being pulled away and wrapped into slim but strong and sure arms.

 

She feels her face being pressed into a shoulder, and there’s a strange dampness that greets her. It takes Chloe a moment to clear up her cluttered mind to recognize that she’s crying, and then just a quick as the realization came, she rips herself away from Beca’s hold, scrambling a few feet away.

 

She blurs out the look of distress and agony that’s on Beca’s face and turns away to compose herself.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” She utters out with a hiccup, and she hates how she sounds.

 

“No, Chlo, no,” Beca says, taking a step closer to Chloe before she even realizes it, and then she’s reeling back, squeamish at the unusual distance between them.

 

“Just…Just give me a minute,” Chloe says, waving her hand away in dismissal.

 

Beca swallows down the dry lump in her throat and gently eases herself to Chloe’s side, making sure to keep herself at a respectable distance. For all of Chloe’s need for personal touch, Beca knows that Chloe needs space when overwhelmed. “I-“ Beca licks her lips, and gives herself a few seconds to compose herself. “I know it’s hard, Chlo. It’s a lot to take in, but just know that I’m here for you, okay?”

 

“I barely know you, Beca,” Chloe states stonily.

 

“Then you can get to know me again,” Beca offers her a soft smile.

 

“I don’t think it works that way,” Chloe responds, but there’s a faint laugh bubbling up her throat, so Beca doesn’t take it too much to heart.

 

“Says who?” Beca replies and Chloe shakes her head, a small smile shining through the haze of diminishing tears.

 

“God, are you always such a smartass?”

 

“Hey, you found it very endearing,” Beca shoots back quickly, but as though realizing the brevity behind her word, quietly retreats, sinking a little into herself. “Once upon a time.”

 

Chloe forces a tight smile onto her, silently glancing down at her restless hands. Her mother always said that this was a result of being such a blazing, spirited soul. Chloe breathes a little better at the thought. At least there are still some memories in that ol’ noggin of hers.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure I did,” Chloe relents, brushing away a rebellious curl of hair.

 

Chloe dispels out a long puff of air, and turns to Beca, running her hands through her hair in slightly frazzled manner. “Look, Beca, I just…I just need some time…and some space,” She says, and rushes to explain further as she watches Beca’s face fall. “I’m just not feeling very myself right now, and I need a moment to gather my thoughts.”

 

Beca nods. “Yeah, of course,” She stands up and brushes off her jeans. “Why don’t you head into the bedroom, and I’ll make some dinner? If you’re hungry?”

 

Chloe offers her a polite, but foreign, smile. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

 

Beca returns it back with a lackluster smile of her own. “Great.”

 

_Just great._

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

Beca wakes with a painful kink in her neck – she groans as she flips over, tossing aside the blankets with reckless abandon. Slowly, she lifts herself up, wincing as she works at the knot on the back of her neck.

 

Groggily, she trudges her way to the bathroom, and knocks over a nude Chloe Beale. Well, almost nude.

 

She grabs hold of Chloe, who nearly topples over, and rights her. Chloe shuffles away for a moment after that, anxiously scratching the back of her neck.

 

“Sorry – I didn’t see you there,” Chloe lets out a loose laugh, brushing aside the wet strands of hair that managed to stick to her cheek.

 

“It’s okay. It’s the morning,” Beca replies, squinting her sleep-lidded eyes.

 

Chloe laughs again for a moment, before pausing. She glances down, as if remembering where she was – which was standing around, half-naked, with her hot wife (of whom she cannot remember. Ah, life’s such a bitch).

 

“Um, I should probably get changed.”

 

This snaps Beca out of her daze. “Right. Yeah, of course.”

 

She’s a little amused when she notices that Beca’s still staring. “While I’m pretty confident about all of this, a girl still needs some privacy.” She says, gesturing to herself.

 

Beca raises an eyebrow. The words fall out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “You should be,” She replies, before letting out a small chuckle.

 

Chloe cocks her head to the side in confusion. “What?”

 

Beca offers her a tender smile. For the first time in months, she feels as if things could really be all right. “Get changed, Beale. I’ll explain it to you later,”

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

 

“So, do you normally do this everyday?” Chloe asks, glancing down at the gorgeous presentation of pancakes that stacked onto her plate.

 

Beca hides her smile behind her coffee cup. “Sometimes.”

 

Chloe raises an eyebrow as she takes a bite. “Well, a girl can get used to this.”

 

Beca lets out a laugh as she finishes up her pancakes. She scrapes off the last bit and watches Chloe polish off hers.

 

“How are you feeling?” Beca asks, setting aside her coffee.

 

“Don’t worry about me, okay? Just go about your normal routine.” Chloe tells her, fiddling with the edge of her sweatshirt.

 

Beca furrows her brows and opens her mouth to protest, but Chloe beats her to it. “The doctor said that I needed to re-establish myself with my old routine,”

 

“Okay, fair enough.” Beca relents.

 

“So, do you have a job?” Chloe asks, after a moment of silence as she pushes aside her empty plate.

 

Beca purses her lips in amusement. “Yeah. I do. I’m a music producer.”

 

“What? That’s so cool!” Chloe exclaims excitedly, semblances of the old Chloe bubbling up. She’s leaning forward, coffee mug tightly clasped in her hands. “Who are you working with? Or are you an artist as well?”

 

Beca chuckles and can’t help but lean closer to Chloe. She lowers her voice to a faux conspiratorial whisper. “Well, between you and me…I’m currently working with Justin Timberlake,”

 

Beca watches Chloe’s eyes light up, and then she leans back, smirking as she takes a slow sip of her coffee. “I can’t say anything else. Producer/client confidentiality.”

 

“That’s so not fair! You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not tell me anything else,” Chloe pouts, pushing away her mug and folding her arms.

 

Beca just shrugs, grabbing all the dishes and placing them into the sink, dismissing Chloe’s protests that she can clean. “It’s fine. We take turns. It’s mine today.”

 

Beca can feel Chloe narrow her eyes at her as she faces the sink. “So, um, what is my routine? What do I normally do all day?”

 

“Well, you normally wake me up at the ass crack of dawn,” Beca says, turning around to pointedly gesture at the clock on the wall. “Which, thankfully, didn’t happen today.” She adds, turning on the tap to rinse the plates.

 

Chloe lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m guessing that we can’t check that off the list then,”

 

“No, we can’t. Um, then you check your emails and pay the bills…which I’m guessing you don’t remember the passwords to…” Beca says, stopping for a second to brush away a stray strand of hair from her face. “So, I’ll do that.”

 

Chloe smiles weakly. “Heh, thanks…so, what do I do after that?”

 

“Well, since it’s a Saturday, we usually go to the farmer’s market or you normally go upstairs to your studio to paint,” Beca says, shutting the tap off and placing the dishes on the rack to dry. “I could take you up there. Show you what you’re working on.” She suggest, drying her hands on a towel.

 

Chloe squirms in seat, shaking her head after a moment of thought. “No, it’s fine. We don’t have to go through all the motions today.”

 

“You sure?” Beca asks skeptically.

 

Chloe offers her a strained smile. “Yeah. We could just go to the farmer’s market instead. Or maybe go for a movie?”

 

“Uh-“

 

“I’m fine, Beca. I just want to…go back to my life again,” Chloe tells her quietly.

 

Beca pauses, before reluctantly nodding her head. “Okay.”

 

**/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//-/-//**

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i know im like a millennia late but i have a good excuse!!! i've been applying to colleges in the states and i've just finished up handling everything this month!! anyways, i feel like this chapter is a mess - maybe it's cause it's been sitting in my mac's folder for months collecting dust, but, yessss i hope that you liked it and it somewhat satisfied you! i know this chapter might not have much going on right now, but trust me, plenty will be coming! i'm currently finishing up chapter five and six so i'll be posting it up soon! (i promise that i'll try to update this story much more frequently) 
> 
> thanks for reading this fic and sticking with me. i love y'all.
> 
> come and yell about this fic and our fave trash ship with me @ theseonlyexception.tumblr.com


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